to be continued
by OrangeChocolate
Summary: Sakura had once stripped herself in front of them, ripped her heart from behind her lungs and drew in a shaky breath...because she was a giver. Team 7 reunion. Dark.


_[...One would ponder the significance of these pieces once Naruto ends.]_

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto. Yet.

_Team 7 reunion drabble. Enjoy._

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_**to be continued**_

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**i.**

a single novel lies between the three of them, and sakura fingers her bracelet.

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**ii.**

it had once made perfect sense for this idolized novel to harbor the essence of a perfect story.

upon reflection, she was surprised that this particular story had no solid beginning; it did not start with the fireworks of the New Year and, if one really wanted to be pompous, it certainly did not start with a rose petal trail that led to a candlelit table for two romantics.

it was more like a trail of blood that led to dying dreams, and one too many disillusioned.

in a shinobi's world (_sakura had later learned_) the one thing she would indulge surprise in would be the poison to her fall. so sakura was not surprised upon analyzation that this novel contained not one clean climax, but several faltering climaxes, and she had not yet questioned the obvious absence of an ending.

in fact, every time she had laid a feather glance at this (overly-read, overly-analyzed) novel, she would inexplicably remember something extra, a small continuation of the not-ending, because she really _just really_ could not remember where _(and if and when) _the story actually ended.

so she dreamt of the world-weary protagonista taking another step-that-was-not-her-last, and of the antagonist-who-could-have-had-it-all bending in for a not-last kill, and of the sidekick-who-never-meant-to-switch-sides exchanging one more bid of farewell-that-never-meant-to-hurt.

sometimes, if she had taken the time to remember a lifetime ago, she would have remembered her mother saying this _pliability_ was what equated to a worthwhile novel. _sometimes_ she would have remembered that this certain novel was not worth reading and _not_ worth glorifying, because it was not a happy story and she was certain would not have a happy ending; if only she could know, _if only_ she could remember something more--

"_Sakura."_

she looks up and at the _(long-overdue)_ reunion.

"_Stay away from this fight."_

a single novel lies between them, and sakura wishes things had been different.

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**iii.**

ino, who was the foil to her person in every way, had finally stepped down from her praise-adorned podium to take sakura as her teacher and master. this was two-and-a-half years ago.

when she reached home, she was happy to just finger the dusty front cover and the absent back cover and leaf through the pages one more time with eyes fluttered closed…because she knew that _most_ fictional plots ran in a straight, clean line like much of what she learned in geometry, and so she knew that there was one thing she could grieve for more than she would grieve for herself.

naruto, who had bowed to the ground she spit upon, was grown and handsome and more determined than ever. they had loved each other (—just not in _that_ way).

she wants to just forget that naruto _hates_ people who lie to themselves, and that with the knives that cut through her Plan To Bring Naruto Back To The Village, he had rushed off to find sasuke.

…and Sasuke. he had simply _left_ her—

—and she had simply loved him (, in _that_ way, unending and forever). this was when the earth was still three rotations back, when the world was still flat and between three points there could only exist a triangle.

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**iv.**

sakura, who's only thought had ever been to advance, takes another step back from _that voice_.

(the one that brings her to tears every day yet still sings her a haunting lullaby every night.)

she had bared her soul out to them once upon a time actually, around a time that she has blocked so thoroughly from her mind that she probably couldn't remember if she tried. she had stripped herself in front of them, had ripped her heart from behind her lungs and drew in a shaky breath before letting the blood drip from her cupped hands as she held this pumping organ out to them and--- one of them was filled with pitiful thoughts and the other could only pitifully stare.

the juices of her past had long slipped from this gap in her chest and the green oceans of her eyes dulled because _one of them was filled with indifferent thoughts, and the other could only pitifully stare._

and then, before she learned the hard way that trust could_should_would _never_ be the only tie of friendship, two hands simultaneously reached out to take her organ. the larger, smoother hand slicked over it with no hesitation (_it had felt more blood and seen more slaughtered than was ever healthy anyway)_, and it was much later that sakura realized she would never have in control what she packages and gives, and she would have thrown a fit at the door of her expensive apartment and slammed her _emptywithnoheart_ fist into the nearest tree and she would have realized that she has no blood to bleed left, because the organ that pumps it is_ long_ gone.

(she would have shed a single tear at her single mistake and vowed to never _ever ever _shed more if she was worth more than the pieces they left behind, and to forgive and forget and to learn to live with that nothing beating against her chest.)

but back then, the smooth hand had absorbed so much of the heart, _her soul,_ into its palm that sakura could not see if it was still alive, and _was her blood really pumping into his body without her consent?_

the only indication of her pain was her smile, because she was raised to be a lady and was never taught anything but sunshine (by naruto) and blue skies (by shikamaru) and to please a man like a lady (by herself).

she gave the other, expectant, hand the elastic tubes of tissue that had connected her to this absent organ, because the shades and hues matched the other gift exquisitely and what use were these tubes to her if she did not have a heart anymore anyway?

she had curtsied _politely_—

(which she continues to insist vehemently, as she tells this story often

(to herself, late into the night when she cannot fall into sweet oblivion))

—wishing them both well and _that sorry it was all she could give in that lifetime_.

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**v.**

that novel was actually never read more than once by sakura, contrary to the beliefs of many stubborn villagers.

the proof she provides is as simple and as lone-standing as the sun:

she doesn't need to.

but the human mind is a like a sieve whether sakura has performed and succeeded in a thousand surgeries or not, so the pages at the front of this novel seem to fade into the abysses of her memory at the same rate as she recalls each new continuation of the book.

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**vi.**

sakura was always a logical person.

she gave what she could not live without so she could _live_ again because they would be happy.

(she uses infallible logic to tell that, her boys have always reconciled through fighting and battles and _destruction_, and that she should just step back and watch this once.

her candid mind tells her that, this is _their_ moment, a second chance with a second encounter, and when will she ever fit in between them anyway?)

yet she could feel that _part _in her chest breaking shattering exploding like the sky at sunset because all she ever learned about was the sky _(from shikamaru)_ and the sun_ (from naruto)_ and there was no heart to break anyway and no hole where the heart should have been to shatter and explode and she was taught _(by herself) _to always feel something at anytime.

but she is a giver and she cannot take back what she has given, and it is her job to heal and to live to give life back to the village that has raised her to become this giver.

so she gives (them time, gives them patience, gives them her life and would not trade any of it back)

and smiles…

(and a second glistening star misses her check and falls directly to the ground this time…)

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**vii.**

…

sakura picks up her novel—

—and watches them fight.

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_she can't remember another page of her book, but she remembers something extra._

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_**fin**_

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_Finished: 2/20/10 12:10 AM_

_Edit 1: 2/21/10 9:45 PM_

_Edit 2: 2/22/10 8:45 PM_

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A/N: Some people have noted the lack of capitalization throughout the piece. Though I wouldn't go as far to say that it's a style, it _was_ intentional. XD

_OrangeChocolate_


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